


Number Three, Minyard

by martyrpipedreams



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Andreil, Fluff, I'm finally learning how to uses tags, M/M, Scars, andrew being proper boyfriend material for ONCE, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:22:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27718789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/martyrpipedreams/pseuds/martyrpipedreams
Summary: Sometimes the scars on Neil's hands hurt. Sometimes they didn't. Sometimes… sometimes they went so numb that his entire hand would feel weightless and if he couldn't see them, he'd think they were gone completely.Or, in other words, me exploring Neil's scars and the nerve damage that comes with them while also indulging in a slightly sweeter than usual Andrew -- he's still an asshole though.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 6
Kudos: 265





	Number Three, Minyard

**Author's Note:**

> I've literally had this idea in my head for a week since I thought, "Damn, there is no way that Neil doesn't have nerve damage". I tried desperately to get it out of my head but it kept coming back so I had to write a little bit. 
> 
> I've also been trying to get better at writing so this is practice. 
> 
> Also! I've your unnerved by scars or scarring, I recommend not reading! If you are but don't give a fuck about my warning, then your balls must be huge. Congrats!

Sometimes the scars on Neil's hands hurt. Sometimes they didn't. Sometimes… sometimes they went so numb that his entire hand would feel weightless and if he couldn't see them, he'd think they were gone completely. 

There was one time on the court, during practice, that he'd dropped his racquet mid-pass due to the stinging pain that crawled up from his knuckles and settled somewhere in his elbow. He remembers gasping and smashing his hands into his chest as if it would dilute the pain while Kevin shouted at him for fucking around and wasting time. He also remembers Andrew telling him to shut the fuck up as he placed a hand on the back of Neil's neck, fingers slipping into the back of his helmet. 

Another time, he'd been in the kitchen making coffee for Nicky and Andrew -- he was used to making it for Matt when they shared a dorm and it was a habit that stuck. 

Nicky was sitting on the counter in rumpled clothes, talking and yawning and talking while yawning. Erik was planning to come and visit and Neil was listening happily because the smell of coffee beans was getting to his head and he hadn't seen Erik since their win against the Ravens. Andrew was half-asleep, standing next to Neil as he spooned another clump of sugar into his coffee all while Neil regarded with mild horror. 

"You're going to get sick," Neil commented, stirring creamer into his own mug. It was hazelnut flavored and while he didn't normally spend too much time making his coffee taste sweet, Matt had insisted he try it at least once. 

Andrew side-eyed him, hair a clumpy mess from sleep -- it curled around his ears and stuck up in every odd way, defying the laws of gravity. Neil was not given a reply. 

"Okay, okay," Neil had said, reaching out and picking up his mug to take it to the living room. He would have said something else, a sharp quip at Andrew about weight watching -- even if he looked fine -- or maybe to tell him he looked like an adorable yet rumpled rat but as soon as he stepped away, his mug slipped from his hand and crashed to the ground, shattering and spilling coffee everywhere. 

His hands had gone numb, dead weight on the end of his arms. After, Nicky asked him about it and Andrew simply stared, asking the same thing but with his eyes. 

Nerve damage, the doctors told him. They said it was common with the type of burns he'd gotten, numbness and sharp pains included. He asked if it would interfere with his playing and if Wymack had been there with him, he would have nailed Neil in the back of the head with his palm. 

_Not always, but there may be unlucky mishaps._

Unlucky was the right word but it was something Neil could deal with as long as it didn't cost the Foxes games. He simply got used to the random sharp pains, the random bouts of tingling or numbness. He could go days or weeks without them but some days they happened more than once, tearing through his practice time like construction paper. 

Today was a good day. His arms had yet to bother him and so, since there was nothing else to do, he went on a drive. Andrew sat in the passenger seat, staring idly out the window, hair slicked back from the wind -- Neil had asked if he could borrow the car, Andrew decided to come. He was wearing his #03 Minyard hoodie, his armbands peaking out from the orange cuffs of the sleeves. Neil had foregone wearing his own arms bands and stuck with a faded short-sleeved t-shirt which left his scars on full display. 

They were still as prominent as the day they had finally healed months ago, though less red and irritated. Circular scars hooped his knuckles and danced up his skin in a sick pirouette, pale against his sunkissed skin. Sometimes they cut off, just little half circles where Lola hadn't pressed down hard enough, others were cut in half by the knife marks trailing across his skin. 

He shivered. When he looked at his scars, he could sometimes feel the phantom pain that accompanied them, he could almost see the glowing ring of orange getting too damn close to his face as Lola pressed the car cigarette lighter against that stupid tattoo on his skin. That stupid little 4 etched into his cheek with ink. There were other times he'd wake up from a nightmare, sweating and ashen, and think that his hands were tied together, cold metal cuffs closed too tightly. 

"Pay attention to the road," Andrew huffed beside him, glaring. "I've already used my free 'surviving a car wreck' ticket." 

"I am paying attention." 

"You're not." He really wasn't. "What are you even thinking about?" 

"Oh, so you do care?"

"I don't care, I just want to have the full story when I sue you for driving us off the side of the highway." Andrew had turned from the window now, his feet pressed against the dash as he watched Neil with the same bored facial expression he wore during practice. 

Neil's lips thinned as he thought about his answer. "I'm thinking about that night. When I, uh, when my dad got me." 

Andrew stiffened, eyes narrowing. "What about it?" 

"The car, when Lola…" He took a hand off the steering wheel and waved it toward Andrew, as if emphasising the scars that were carved into him. "Y'know." 

Andrew was silent for a moment before catching Neil's hand and bringing it toward him, resting his elbow on the center console. His fingers traced the bumpy patterns, a frown on his lips. 

"What are you-"

"Shut up, Josten." 

Neil watched him silently after that, looking from the road to the blond with interest. He could feel the other's fingertips moving softly, the pad of his thumb rough against the sensitive skin of Neil's scars. Andrew didn't _do_ soft affection -- or well, obvious soft affection. There were times when they'd lay together at night and Neil would feel Andrew card his fingers through his auburn hair, scratching gently at his scalp but compared to this, Neil had no source material. Kisses were frequently rough or harsh, escalating to biting teeth against tender lips and they didn't do hugs or hand holding. Sometimes, if he was lucky, Neil would fall asleep on Andrew's chest and the grumpy mother fucker would let him but they didn't _**do**_ soft affection. 

They didn't touch each other's scars, it was like an unspoken rule: the scars do not exist until they do. And then we don't talk about them. 

"You good?" Neil couldn't help the lame way the words fell out of his mouth. "I mean," he went to move his arm but Andrew's hands held it in place, "What are you doing?" 

"I thought I told you to shut up."

"You did, I'm just choosing not to listen," Neil said matter of factly, smirking. Andrew rolled his eyes. 

"187 percent. I'm looking at your scars." 

"Good to know. Why?" 

"You spend too much time thinking about them which makes your junkie brain flip the fuck out -- you can't think hard about anything other than exy or you short-circuit." He flipped Neil's arm over, thumbs massaging Neil's knuckles. "So, now, when you think about your scars, you'll think about number three, Andrew Minyard." 

Neil gaped for a moment before snapping his mouth shut and grinning, fingers lifting to rest just an inch away from Andrew's throat. 

"Yes or no?" 

"You're driving."

"Number three, yes or no?"

"Yes." 

Neil glanced to the road, making sure he wasn't on the wrong side of the highway before he slid his hand through Andrew's hair and kissed him hard. 

When he pulled away from lips that tasted like spearmint, he grinned at the windshield. "You're being awfully sweet today, Andrew."

"I'm also extremely sick of your shit."

"Fair, number three."


End file.
